RWBY: FORCES
by Half-Weeb Hero
Summary: Legends, stories scattered through time. Man has grown quite fond of stories of Heroes and Villains, forgetting that we are Remnants, byproducts of a forgotten past. One such legend, older than even the forgotten time is of the messianic Black Swordsman. Now that darkness looms powerful once more, a call for the Messiah resounds again. But how much will his salvation cost the world
1. Prologue 1

**Hello and welcome to my first ever FanFic and it is one I have been wanting to do for a LONG time. This idea has been brewing in my head since I finished Vol.2 of RWBY and was just fresh out of reading all the way through to the latest chapter of Berserk and thought: What the hell. Why not make a fan fic crossing them over, I _am_ obsessed with crossovers. For a first FanFic, I am putting a lot of faith in this attempt of mine, so I hope you enjoy reading this with me as much as I enjoy writing it. One last thing, Guts is NOT going to be paired with anyone.**

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 **Update:**

 **Slightly extended narrative  
Guts' character improved and more mature  
Idea of Good now Idea of Hope from now on**

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"Normal Voice" _'Thoughts'_

" ** _Skull Knight_ " **_" Idea of Hope"_

" **Demon Voice"**

 **Without further ado…**

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 **RWBY  
~FORCES~**

Prologue 1

Another Struggle for the Struggler

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How long has it been, how long since I charged _his_ army of demons. How long since I wiped them out, raging, roaring, bleeding.

How long since I mowed down the "Godhand". Impossible as it may seem, I have done it.

How long, how long, since I finally cut _him_ , since I crushed _him_ , since I finally KILLED _him_ , since I killed GRIFFITH, THAT DAMNED BASTARD.

How long since, in my dying breaths, saw the bigger bastard that predestined all this, the supposed God of this world, The Idea Of Evil, and finally cut that gigantic, ethereal, whatever it looked like down.

How long has it been, since I finally died…

Just like all the good things that came in my world, my victory came with a price. I defeated the reign of Hell on Earth, so they really don't want me there even as punishment; Heaven is obviously not much of a sacrifice at all and they think that Purgatory just won't cut it, I'd most likely end up fighting my way to Paradise so fast it can't be called a punishment either. So now here I am, in some sort of "Limbo outside of Limbo", "The Absolute Abyss of All Abyss" what ever the hell that is. Well, wherever I am, that's where Skull Knight is stuck in, too apparently. And so here we both are, existing yet not existing or something, without a clue or care what's happened to the world lately.

The last we remember about humanity is that I was suddenly revered as a hero, a Messiah even, against the "false prophet" Griffith. Funny how not half a month before, he was "The Savior", "The Second Coming of The Lord", and other religious flashiness they could ever think of, the hatred probably started when he ordered a mass sacrifice of a good chunk of the human race, almost went extinct. Then decades later my name became religious, too. The 'Messiah in Black', 'He Whose Darkness Holds... Whatever-Even-I-Don't-Remember' amongst names I could care less about. Then after centuries, I became a myth, a bed time story for kids who want to dream of being a hero, if only those kids knew what I've really been through, they wouldn't even think of heroism anymore. Then me and Skull Knight distracted ourselves with philosophical talk, we had the time and I didn't exactly have anything better to do. Existential possibilities for both of us, and we did it for possibly millennia, all that was missing is a chess table and we'd look like Gods discussing the human condition. It was at that point we stopped caring what humans are up to these days, it was getting real boring with the repetitive and stupid routines and wars left and right anyways, it was only the "90's" according to Skull Knight and already the world's screwed it self over with wars, we pretty much predicted by the time we stop talking they'd all be replaced by a new species. Then the absolute worst happened, we started running out of things to talk about also. He wouldn't have it too bad, he could still observe humanity, but me? Part of not observing Earth, as the humans started to call it, was to give up the ability to do so. We can't talk about anything anymore, I gave up the ability to observe humanity a long time ago. It was a horrid feeling for me for millenia now. And now, here we are, in the "Void of the Afterlife", just, existing, and it is horrible.

" _ **I thought another voided soul would alleviate my lonesome existence and utter boredom, it appears it was not so,**_ _ **may have even made it worse**_ _ **"**_ says the bonehead, finally with something new to talk about.

"Yeah, you and me both..." It is horrid, unforgivably lonely.

"You know, this actually makes me wish something would happen to the living world, maybe then we'd be of use for _something_. Maybe that's all we need so that we'd be finally welcome to the pearly gates" it's a long-shot, but it's better than not rotting here for eternity with this boring pile of bones.

" _ **Aye.**_ _ **If only the world were so simple...**_ _ **"**_ he says.

 _"_ _ **But alas that is the law of our world, the Law of Casualty. Even salvation comes at the expense of someone else.** "_

"Unfortunately we were the 'Casualty', huh. So much for 'hope' and 'freedom' and 'peace at last'."

Then as if on queue…

 _*Flash*_ The typical _blinding holy light_ of the big heads from heaven flash so bright you'd think they're trying to fry your eyes off.

" _Hail, my champion. "_ says the big 'Idea of Hope'.

I remember how he appeared some time after I exposed Griffith as the Demon God he really was. He started out as an illusion by the Idea of Evil, but using mine and my friends' will as power, along with the hope our fight with Griffith to stave off extinction placed in mankind, it became its own deity that loosened the hold off Evil's grip on the world. Though who would have thought that that kid who was supposed to be my future son would be the vessel of the big cheese of all that is good, eh. He initially promised me that I'd have a spot 'at His Right Hand in His Kingdom' as thanks, guess it got postponed for like, what, a few MILLENIA! Maybe he'd do good on that promise now.

" _Do not think I have forgotten what I have pledged to you._ _"_ Well would you look at-

 _" But __I am in need once more of your service... "_ Ahhh, hell.

"What is it now"

" _You may have heard of the Creatures of the Dark that almost extinguished man... "_

"Wait wait wait wait wait, 'Creatures of the Dark'? 'Almost extinguished man'? I thought humanity was safe from hell since I tore apart the Godhand?"

" _ **...Have you not heard of the war between man and these** **creatures?"**_ War? What war?

"The last time I observed war I saw on the planet they dropped one gigantic explosive cannonball-thing on another country roasting millions."

" _Unfortunately, champion, there was another war. Fortunately man had banded together to face the new threat..._ "

"And I'm guessing they lost and-"

" _Not 'lost', per say. A Pyrrhic Victory if you may. They did survive, albeit their numbers of billions have been reduced to mere millions "_ A Pyrrhic Victory, won at a cost heavier than what they gained.

"Still a damn shame, if you ask me."

" _Indeed. But r_ _eturning to my need... "_ he says before I could throw in more thoughts. _" These creatures are 'calling' to their 'ancestors', the Demons, and the world as it is now is not prepared for such horrors."_

"Well that's their fault. They almost got massacred when the Demons were here, even WORSHIPED those Demons; they almost got massacred when those 'Creatures' showed up, and now they're about to be massacred again by a combination of both. They never learned and now they're gonna die for it. Their. Fault."

" _Not quite again, champion. Your patience must have run very thin in this indistinct void, do you realize that? They have learned champion, though not after the Demons, but during the war, which is why they won in the first place. Though a union between the 'Creatures' and the Demons could prove too much for humanity as it stands. They will need a Messiah once more. "_

"Okay, but why me? Why not Bone-Face over here? He could rip up dimensions on a whim while I try VERY hard to not die when I fight Demons. I know I don't like it here, but I don't wanna disappoint you and strengthen the hold whatever demonic thing has on the planet this time."

" _ **I agree, I am more fit for such a crisis. And I myself am beyond mortality somewhat, he is but a vulnerable, killable human. No offense."**_

"Says the guy who died twice..."

" _ENOUGH! The reason I chose you again, champion, was because through out your journey, you tried to not die and you didn't die. When you face Demons, your target and the occasional ARMIES they send at you have a tendency of leaving NO SURVIVORS. You have faced impossible odds and won brazenly. You are an exemplary human, and this strong yet unprepared world needs one to lead them right now. "_ Okay, so what's in it-

" _And as you hoped yourself, you now have a crisis worth your skills and a chance to ascend to my right hand as your prize. Or do you actually enjoy this numbing pseudo-existence, I am free to provide you what you wish._ _"_ Oh.

"Well, guess I don't have much of a choice right? I _did_ ask for it."

" _ **Then I wish you best of luck, Struggler. At least you would be free from this Limbo..."**_

" _Oh worry not Skull Knight, you will reprise your role as his guide, that alone will assure your place in Paradise. "_

" _ **Aye. Thank you, m'Lord. I will 'babysit' your beloved champion."**_

"Alright, how and who are we being reborn by."

 _" You won't, we don't have much time to wait for you to mature from rebirth. You will be recreated, and recreation is a horribly painful process. Skull Knight will also be recreated in his living armor and steed, but he does not have flesh and nerves underneath his living armor anymore, his will be painless."_

"Well that sucks I guess. Fine, tell me when, I'm already ready.

" _Upon arrival, you must not let your identity or your mission be known to too many, you are still the Messianic hero to them, now more than ever. You must lead humanity, but do not leave them dependent on you. We do not want to leave this world weak once you leave now do we?_ "

"Got it."

" _Then all is settled. You will begin the recreation process soon, so prepare yourself. Try not to lose your mind during the process._ "

Then I immediately felt it, the hell of it all, like my skin being peeled off and then stabbed back on, my insides imploding exploding and being stitched back up by barbed wire. He wasn't lying that I could lose my mind here, I have felt no other form of pain more painful than this. My semi-existent consciousness is fading.

Then it all got dark.

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Prologue 1

~END~

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 **Annnnd that's a wrap for now, please R &R. Constructive Criticisms welcome, be it positive or negative, you'll all be the key to making me a better writer**

 **Update: Hope you like the update I did, if not be as vocal as possible with your concern and I will address you quickly**

~CE~


	2. Prologue 2

**Hello again FFN and time for the second prologue of FORCES, this time looking at Remnant's side of the prologue. Special shout outs to LordUnderDragon, my first follow, TenWings my first fave, and to Starboy34tcoos, my first review.  
**

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 **Update:  
New Intro  
Extended Narrative  
From this point, the story starts 2 years before the events of RWBY**

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"Normal voice" _**"Skull Knight"**_

" _Idea of Good_ _" '_ Thoughts _'_

" **Demon voice"**

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RWBY is a property of Rooster Teeth while Berserk is a property of Kentaro Miura. I own nothing but the plot of this story

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 **RWBY  
~FORCES~**

Prologue 2

Legend of the Black Swordsman

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 **Legends, stories scattered through time. Man has grown quite fond of accounting the exploits of Heroes and Villains, forgetting so easily that we are Remnants, byproducts of a forgotten past. Man born from Dust was strong wise and resourceful, but he was born into an unforgiving world. An inevitable darkness, creatures of Darkness, the Creatures of Grimm, set their sights on man and all of its creations. These forces clash, and it seemed the darkness were intent on returning man's brief existence into the void.**

 **However even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change, and in time, man's passion, resourcefulness and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds. This power was appropriately named, Dust.**

 **Nature's Forces in hand, man lit their way through the Darkness. And in the shadow's absence, came strength, civilization, and most importantly, life.**

 **But even the most brilliant lights flicker and die.**

 **And when they are gone, darkness will return**

 **So you may prepare your Guardians, build your monuments to a so called "free world", but take heed:**

 **There will be no victory in strength**.

Or perhaps victory lies in the simple things we've long forgotten. Things that require a smaller, more honest soul...

 _You are both so naive._

 _True that there is no victory in strength alone, many have fallen trying to do so. In my name and against it._

 _But neither is there victory in simple honest souls, the darkness we face is too thick, to powerful. All you'll have is a purer, more gullible darkness than before._

 _Victory is in the tainted, those who succumbed to the darkness and clawed their way out. Those tainted who also wields strength enough to further resist the darkness. Those tainted, unafraid to toss "Pride" and "Fairness" to combat the equally spineless darkness._

 _We must fight fire with fire._

 _The question is:_

 _How much must be sacrificed to fuel this "Saving Fire"_ _?_

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The moon was bright tonight on Beacon's grounds, bright enough to light most of the library within. On one of the tables is a _huge_ pile of books, reports and other forms of data both physical and digital. From the aisles of the library came the one collecting all that data. A scrawny looking man with unkempt green hair, thick glasses, a worn button up shirt, and a thermos full of somehow still hot coffee. His other free hand is reading through a small book, a much older retelling of a fairy-tale many, if not all, have heard their whole lives, The "Legend of the Black Swordsman".

It was one of his most favorite stories of his entire life, not just for its "moral" of never judging a book by its cover, what with the hero being clad in the most menacing armor he had seen, complete with such an intricate, almost decorative, large sword, the same one he uncovered and preserved in the Vault beneath Beacon (though he knew there was something... off about the sword), but also for its mysterious quality of having so little proof to track its historic source, but the evidences themselves are so conclusive to not search for more.

But with the recent rise of this new "evolution" of Grimm, and how it connects to this old legend, he sometimes wishes he didn't know this much of the legend.

He was distracted from his musings by the library doors almost silently creaking open. He turned to see a man in a black business attire, green scarf, small tinted glasses and silver hair, walking by a strange cane on his right hand, and holding his own mug of now-warm coffee.

"Headmaster! Forgivemeforstayingup,I'llbecleaningupnow." said hurriedly by the green-haired man, suddenly dashing into a blur towards his table.

"Calm down Oobleck, No need to stop what you're doing so suddenly." the 'Headmaster' said with a raised hand still holding the mug, easing up Beacon's Premier Archaeologist, Bartholomew Oobleck. "And it's okay to be a bit formal, Bart. It's just us both here, friend."

"...Then I'll continue till you say so, Ozpin." replied Ooblek to the Headmaster of Beacon, Ozpin.

"I see you're looking back on everyone's favorite hero." Ozpin says almost enthusiastical, taking a seat opposite to the archaeologist.

"I felt that with the recent rise of this, 'evolution' of Grimm, There had to be some fact as to what they are, how they came to be _why_ they came to be."says Oobleck.

"And all evidences only point to this very legend." he adds, holding the book up for emphasis, showing that it was the usual grittier, darker, older retelling of the legend, something only the professors of the school have access to, along with the many research papers regarding its factual inspirations and origins.

At the mention of the theory, behind Ozpin's curious eyes eyes, his mood stiffened a bit.

"What I found is highly unsettling. Many, if not all of the new "Grimm" have a striking resemblance with most of the creatures painted on this book, especially the new Nevermore that recently appeared in the Initiation grounds." he said as he brought up from his Scroll the clearest images they have of the "Nevermore" when it appeared.

Upon closer inspection by Ozpin, it was during Initiation, ambushing Team CFVY, blinding and scarring Fox all over his body, and forever mentally scarring Miss Scarlatina. Thankfully that day, the Team was perfectly able to hold it off, even grievously harm it long enough for the emergency Bullheads to arrive. Fortunately they also already got their respective artifacts, and still considered as passing the Initiation, though as far as everyone knows, that thing is still out there. And Ozpin _did not_ like that.

Then Bart searched through the pages of the old book and finally found what he was looking for, setting the open book next to the image of the "Nevermore"'s face. On the book was a drawing of a creature, almost identical to the "Nevermore" on the screen, except it had look of an unholy mix between a bat and a raven, its skin a sick grey. Under the image was either its name or its title, "Shax".

"Though I would like to show you more of the Grimm and their counterparts in the legend, I'm afraid I don't have access to the images right now for comparison. I assume only you have access to these for now?"

"Yes, for safekeeping, lest anyone has to see the... results, of the incidents in full detail." the archaeologist shuddered at the reminder of what those images contained.

"...Yes, indeed no one should have the misfortune of knowing what's within those files."

There was quite a heavy pause between the two

"But that brings me to another unsettling discovery..." Oobleck states in a somber, sad tone.

"Oh... and that is?"

"...It isn't out of their nature to do such." The revelation made the mood even worse.

It was silent for another moment. Then as Ozpin looked up eye-to-eye with Bart, the archaeologist saw it.

Cold fury piercing at his very soul.

"So you're telling me, that almost surgically removing one person's entire coat of flesh and waving it like a flag, ripping apart civilians in the goriest ways possible _for show_ , and demanding _chosen sacrifices_ for meals for _half a decade_ , and _god forbid_ , the _brutal mating rituals on civilians are all inherent to their instincts!?_ " Ozpin asked, seething and trying his very best not to just scream out the question and flip the entire table in outrage. How can any creature be this cruel, this evil _by nature_.

"...Yes... sir..." were the only thing the archaeologist can utter at the face of a silently enraged Ozpin.

"But..." Oobleck adds, hoping the sound of a possible solution would lift the Headmaster's spirits. And the almost instant curious and slightly hopeful look on Ozpin's face immediately put a smile on his own face.

"If all the equipment, holy places and historically passed accounts of the Black Swordsman, a savior might be in our midst!" Then Ozpin's face lost most of that optimism.

"Bart, Oobleck, we don't need some rumor of a "Chosen hero" coming in like a fairy tale hero to declare the world is safe as long as he breathes. We need _actual_ , _working_ methods to stop these new breed of Grimm." the Headmaster retorts, obviously not amused with the archaeologist's flimsy excuse of a solution.

"And as far as the "evidences" of his return are concerned, they are far from reassuring. All we have is a prosthetic hand hiding a cannon, a temple we can't enter even after _pounds_ of Burn Dust explosives, and a sword that you yourself admitted was dubious and off. How exactly is knowing that an old fairy tale hero's equipment is actually rather crude, mundane, and possibly even fake supposed to help our situation?" asked the Headmaster, his patience growing _very_ thin.

"...Forgive me then, Headmaster... I shall take my leave then, if it helps you." says Bart, feeling dejected having failed to ease his friend's burden.

"... You may go then..." was the only, somber reply.

The archaeologist started packing up and returning all borrowed books and files to their proper shelves in his usual blurring speed, only a bit more quiet to give his Headmaster some much needed silence.

As Oobleck was finally leaving, the Ozpin was left to his own thoughts.

'... I think I may have been too harsh on him. All he wanted was to help, yet I only made him feel bad for trying.'

He looks to one, almost conveniently left out strip of paper. He picks it up and reads the single word on the sheet, his mood worsening at what he saw.

'But what truly _enraged_ me the most, was how I knew all this already. Walking in on Bart, hoping he has more positive findings to debunk what I know, only for him to confirm more of what I feared.'

Then he sets down the strip of paper and opens up his own Scroll to show... a digital copy the single, oldest version of the Legend of the Black Swordsman.

Or as the old text on its cover says, "The Berserker"

It was the oldest and possibly most accurate version of the book only he, Glynda and James have access to this copy. Not even the kings know this exists. It was a darker retelling of the fairy tale, almost like a Gothic Horror.

The Black Swordsman may be the hero compared to what he faced, but here, he is _far_ from heroic, even being called the eponymous Berserker. His heroics in this tome were achieved by near _atrocities_. Using children as shields and bait, executions by torture, no regard for leaving massive genocides in his wake. It was near impossible to root for the man if it weren't for his much more atrocious adversaries, Hell's Grip.

Everything Oobleck has told him about the new Grimm were just the tip of what he read they could do, what he _knew_ they could do. But on those pages a single edit was placed over very utterance of one specific word or phrase.

'Looking back, maybe I shouldn't have dismissed the possibility of a savior. After all, since I found this book along with Glynda and Jim, I had high hopes that the Black Swordsman himself may return, even if not in his full regalia. In fact there is no need to, the equipment is coming to _us_ , he'll need _our_ help, _we'll_ be equals.'

Then after he reads through the last page, he turns the digital page to the last word written, the title of the book. Except this title has a word scribbled over it.

But it's not just a word, it is a name. The same name he found scribbled over all mentions of the title "Berserker", a name he has longed to hear as a real name in this day and age since he first had the gall to finally finish this Gothic tale.

"So is this a sign that you will actually come to reality and claim what is rightfully yours, Guts?"

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FORCES

Prologue 2

End

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 **Aaaaaand that wraps up our Prologue Chapters. Few warnings of things to come: 1) Characters _may_ die. Berserk is a sad, dangerous, and fucked up world, and character death, major or minor, is a prominent occurrence in the series. 2) The start will seem a bit slow as it will focus on Guts adjusting to how this world works before anything really happens. And 3) It _might_ take a while before any other major RWBY characters will appear as it will focus on wherever the hell Guts will be at.**

 **Other than that, please R &R, constructive criticisms, positive or negative, are always welcome.**

~CE~


	3. Chapter 1

**Why hello again one and all to RWBY: FORCES, and I would just like to thank all those who still follow this work even if it feels abandoned at this point. I promise to try to never do such a thing to you people again, ever. I will try to regularize updates at every Saturday, SEA time. If not, it'll be updated earlier every Friday, or later every Monday. I love all of you my small group of following readers to ever abandon you. So I hope after this chapter you still stick around for more.**

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 **And remember:**

"Normal Voice" 'Thoughts'

" _ **Skull Knight "**_ _" Idea of Hope"_

" **Demon Voice" 'Demon Thoughts'**

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"RWBY" is a property of "Rooster Teeth, while "Berserk" is a property of Kentaro Miura.  
I own nothing but the plot of this story

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 **And finally for…**

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 **RWBY**

 **~FORCES~**

Chapter 1

Awakening

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Within a lush, green forest, far into the outskirts of Vale, everything is as peaceful as usual, even for the Creatures of Darkness. Lush lands filled to the brim with greenery and life, one could almost say it's a bit too peaceful. And you'd be right, what with a silently singed patch of land with the strangest sight any living being would see. There stood the Skull Knight, in all his skeletal glory. Of course he'd be the only one awake at the moment, he didn't have any flesh and bone to horribly rejuvenate for himself.

Unlike his once again "ward".

On the ground is Guts, unconscious from the absolutely harrowing experience, portions his flesh still reforming on his body, slightly twitching and grunting in pain every now and then. As he is the only one awake between the two, the spectre looks around him, hopefully finding shelter for the unconscious Struggler, fortunately he senses a cluster of living souls a few ways off to the east, hopefully it is a settlement. He also noticed saddled behind him is just an old cloak, an old cloak that looks all too familiar on the swordsman before him. Quite possibly the only gift the "Good One", as he calls the Idea of Hope, has for the Struggler. Then he heard the stirring of his companion, looking completely restored.

"Ugh… Whr'th'hll'm I?" Guts says as he gets up.

" _ **The New World, Struggler. "**_ the Skull Knight replies.

The swordsman steadied himself, looking around in the same forest getting his bearings of the immediate area. Trees, lots of trees is all he sees.

'So I'm stuck out here in a new world, in the middle of a forest, possibly in a huge thicket of the Creature's dwellings, with absolutely nothing on.', Guts sighs as he laments his absolute disadvantage.

"Zero odds for my side again, huh." Guts says resigned.

" _ **It is within the nature of your very existence, the Struggler, to fight uphill all your life. "**_ replied the voided soul.

"I never said I had a problem with it..."

" _ **Though I would not say that**_ **all** ** _the stakes are against you... "_** he continues _**"You are still branded, Struggler."**_ which prompted him to feel for his neck, where the damned mark is, only to feel a scar.

'Huh, that's weird.' he thought. Not that it still takes away the rather obvious _dis_ advantage.

"And this _monster magnet_ is supposed to help me how?"

" _ **It will, Struggler. You will learn in time, like you always have. "**_ was the spectre's reply

"Again with the barely helpful cryptics..."

" _ **I will at least help you this much. There is a settlement, I hope, far to the east. A good place to begin your mission, Struggler. "**_ The knight said as he gestured towards the general direction of the gathering of living souls.

" _ **I have almost forgotten, the only other protection you have, your old cloak. "**_ He then tossed to Guts his old tattered cloak, the one thing that remained with him since his time with The Band of The Hawk.

"Huh, thanks I guess. At least I'm not walking into a village completely naked." he says as he puts the cloak over himself, also putting on the hood with it.

" _ **Farewell for now Struggler. We will- "**_

" _ **' Meet again when it is destined.'**_ I've heard you say that enough times in my last life to memorize it." he interrupted, copying even his voice, surprising even Skull Knight. If he still has a head underneath his armor, he would have been smirking honestly.

"And don't speak to me about fate or destiny ever again. You remember what happened to my last destiny, right?" the swordsman continues, reminding the spectre of the moment he proved why it is his very nature to oppose destiny.

" _ **Then I need not remind you of that again. "**_ he simply says as he rides of, fading quickly out of existence.

And so he walks off to _supposed_ safety as the bonehead suggested. As he treks through the forest, he takes time to look around the area. A large green forest, filled with peaceful wildlife. He had to pause for a few running deer and spotted a bunch of squirrels on a low hanging branch. It was peaceful, too damn peaceful.

Reminds him of Alfheim.

How could he forget one of the most significant 'victories' he has over what Griffith has done to his life. It was the time he finally got his body and soul healed from all the abuse he got ever since Qlippoth. It was that day he learned that apparently, when a really tough and strong as hell body is beaten and broken to ridiculous degrees but is given enough and proper recuperation, it heals back stronger than it ever was, _especially_ the bones. Since that day he _really_ took to heart the importance of rest, his number two priority after his trip there ever since was find a safe haven to recuperate from wounds, now his near suicidal charges now had a more reasonable reward to it. But there's a deeper reason why he remembers...

Then he was distracted from his thoughts by a familiar sting on his neck, so much for memory lane then. He reached for his brand, but was surprised that it was still a scar rather than an open wound, that might mean a change in the 'mechanics' of his brand. Still stings like a bitch, though. And surprisingly it didn't take him too long to figure out what Skull Knight said.

He searched around while still moving forward, the ache getting worse, he could swear the brand was opening up again. Then he finally saw the source standing in his way, two bear-like creatures, two werewolf like creatures, and a _really_ big ass werewolf. These must be the 'Dark Creatures' that spawned after the fall of the demons.

He could charge in, it's always been his best strategy. But then again he's almost naked with absolutely no weapon or armor. Resigning to a strategy he's not so fond of, he backs up and tries to sneak past them. Though he isn't the type to go for stealth, that one assassination he did for his bastard of an ex-commander and years of being a predator to a good percentage of demonkind proved he wasn't incapable of it, one might even say he's an apex predator if it weren't for his brand. He could have proved himself capable again, had he not stepped on a stray branch hidden in the grass and leaves, snapping it, and attracting the creatures' attentions before he could even afford to turn his back.

 ***Grrrrrr** *

Going back to his thoughts before his brand acted up, hopefully he is at his _absolute_ peak condition...

The creatures were instantly charging fast at him. He narrowly avoided a swipe from the 'werewolf', before sidestepping just in time to dodge the oncoming bear's shoulder charge. He's going to need to think fast against these things, like he always does anyways. He needs to stay on the defensive for now, just dodging to the best of of his surprising agility until he can figure out as much as he can about these creatures fighting habits.

Thanks to all his dodging and planning he noticed some very useful things. One: these things are _WAY_ slower than his usual demons, the damn things can barely even scratch his cloak, or maybe it was just him; two: they've got some interesting looking spikes on them; and three: the large 'werewolf' isn't attacking, in fact it looks like its waiting, thinking, this one was obviously smarter than the rest of its pack. After longer inspection of those spikes and claws, he could see the spikes on the back of those bear-things look like some good shivs, those claws on the wolves though, perfect swords, especially the ones on the bigger one with the reinforced bone things on it, just his forte. He's gonna need a way to literally and painfully pry those claws out of their cold dead fingers first though, so the bone shivs come first priority.

One of the bear-things swiped for his chest, he dodged backwards, only to unexpectedly back-up to a tree behind him. Then he looked back at his opponents, seeing a werewolf trying to gut him open, top to bottom. Thankfully he was able to sidestep the attack in time to at least reduce the damage to small cuts down his right arm.

Now it was his turn to retaliate as hard and fast as he possibly can in his state. He charged for the most isolated bear-thing to give him breathing space for his understandably suicidal strategy, but it never failed him before in his short but eventful life, and as his usual, it definitely won't fail him now against these dumb beasts.

He bobbed, weaved and dodged the swipes and strikes of the rest of the pitch-black creatures, nothing to slow him down on his course for the menacing, but about-to-be pitiful, bear-monster. And when he finally was close enough, the creature poised to strike, but Guts is always prepared as hell for such a thing. He went under the, to his usual perception, slow and predictable swipe from the boney black bear and got behind the creature and jumped on its back. Using the spikes and fur as footholds for his feet and grips, not for his hand, but his _teeth_ , he steadied himself and with his only hand he gripped onto the largest spike on its back, and started to try and snap it off.

The creature was at first merely irritated by the huge but _unbelievably_ fast meal cloaked in black clinging to his back trying to do something it could barely feel on one of its spikes, but that thought changed immediately when it started to feel said bone-spike painfully and slowly cracking off its back. It tried to shake Guts off by sweeping at its own back, but its huge arms can't possibly reach him. Then it showed some form of intelligence by backing up and smashing Guts to a nearby tree, and it hit, Guts hit the tree _hard_ and had some extra serving of pain by the weight of the bear-creature sandwiching him to the tree. But the swordsman being who he is, he might as well have felt nothing from that impact as he continued to wrench it from the monster's back.

Finally, gorily, and painfully, he broke broke the spike off its back, the nerves and other entrails inside the bone hanging off from both openings of the bones. The monster bear roared in pain and agony of such a primitive and brutal detachment of the bone, but it was nothing compared to the primitive pain of being _s_ _tabb_ _ed to death_ from all unprotected points of its neck, back, and chest.

The beast, was roaring even louder, if it could, it would have been _screaming_ as his prey turned bloody, unrelenting predator was stabbing him all over where the swordsman can reach on his perch until he finally shoved the spike deep in its eye, deep enough to pierce its brain, then pulled the spike out with the eye still on it. The beast stopped dead in its tracks before slowly limping all its limbs until it finally fell forward.

Then off its back, Guts stood, covered in the blood of his first kill in this new life, his improvised weapon of choice just as bloody with the dead creatures eye impaled on it with the cloak over his body making him look like a bloody Grim Reaper. He looked rather menacing to the creatures, stunning them with the ferocity of his kill, only for a second. These creatures were _powered_ by negativity, and they only wanted to kill their prey more, he could see it in their eyes.

No choice but to straight up kill them then. No problem.

He made the first move, he charged forward, faster than before, he may as well be a black gust of wind, death and pain charging towards his next target. He went for the other bear monster and ducked a swipe from it, then disabled it with a stab at each of its kneecaps, followed by a brutal stab to the neck, then dragging the spike down its body, messily disemboweling the creature, then using his bone spike to break another spike from the dying bear-thing and holding the newly acquired spike by his teeth. He then charged immediately to the werewolves, leaving the bear-thing to bleed to death. The werewolves were honestly faster this time compared to when they first assaulted him, swiping at him before he can get in range forcing him back into the defensive. They were definitely pretty fast, but not fast enough, or strong enough. When the next attack came from both assailants, as luck would have it, their hands were almost perfectly aligned back to back and coming down at the same speed, the perfect setup to stab the first spike to both hands, followed by gripping spike number two off his teeth to stab one wolf in its skull.

Then in another show of ferocity, he almost cleanly cut the large middle finger of the remaining werewolf with a big, painful **CHOMP** , and proceeded to behead the writhing, roaring wolf with its own claw-sword.

Now all that's left is the bigger, badder wolf. He comes face to face with the creature, they lock eyes, obviously this wolf has a plan of attack despite its instinctual nature. Time to see if its plan will work.

They both charge at the same time, this big wolf moving a _hell_ of a lot faster than the rest of his merry men, they swiped and dodged and slashed at each other like two wild beasts, neither getting the upper hand. A slash coming to the wolfs right only to meet the stronger claws of the beast in a lock, their strength rather even until the swordsman really begins to push, hearing the sound of cracking bones, expecting it to be the werewolf's claws. Then he remembered that the beast's claws were sharper and tougher than his short and flimsy by comparison claw-sword, something he realized too late to save his weapon being cleaved into pieces, but early enough to jump a few ways back from the follow-through swipe.

Fortunately _again_ , as the Black Swordsman's usual dumb luck provides, he steps back to the corpse of the two werewolves, the bone shiv on the first one's skull still intact, he goes for the weapon and pulls it out of its skull, only to turn around to the leader wolf mere feet away from him from a leap, its jaws wide open to bite his head off. Too close to dodge, weapon hand poised too high to gut it mid-air, and the angle impossible for a stab above the head, lest he wants to have his remaining arm chomped clean off.

Doesn't matter as he very quickly realized his only option is not only his, well, only option, but because compared to his previous methods of defense…

This one is much more satisfying.

Adjusting the bone-spike to a straight forehand grip, he lets his arm fly straight.

Straight into its mouth, and all the way down its throat.

The beast couldn't snap its jaw shut to chop its prey's arm off as it was gagging from the horrible forced entry, not to mention the defenselessness off it being suspended in mid-air by being held by an arm shoved deep in its throat. Then from its suspended position, the werewolf's body was forcefully brought to the ground. Then from within the beast, he twists his arm downwards and makes his grip on the bone spike perpendicular, pushing the spike out of the beast's chest. And with what's left of his left arm, he pushes the werewolf off his arm while pulling his right arm out, making an absolute mess of a disembowelment.

He lets go off the ruined corpse, breaths heavy from the thrill of the kill, he looks around and admires his work. Two bears, two werewolves, and a big ass smarter werewolf, all down in short work with nothing but his wits and brute strength to thank for.

He would have been extremely proud of himself if not for one immediately glaring reason...

"Where the hell did Bone-head say the village was again?"

And as if the world thought that wasn't funny enough, his Brand started to ache. And ache. And then just outright hurt. By the time he touched his Brand again, it's wide open again, bleeding, like it was fresh off the Eclipse again.

Then he heard something behind him. Something huge. Something fast. And something with a lot of legs. His initial thought was an utterly gigantic and fast bug, a thought of which he wasn't that scared of, he's fended off much worse with practically the same equipment provided to him right now. But when he turned around to face his next kill, he was a bit hesitant of his confidence for once

It was a horde of those creatures, and it was a freakishly huge one. He could see, what, forty, sixty? Its got a bunch of those bears, bigger bears, the two kinds of werewolves he faced, some new monster boars tagged along with even _bigger_ boars. He may have fought a horde just as bad if not worse, but at least he had a bunch of extra swords he could use then _and_ he only survived because Skull Knight bailed him out. For all his power, skill and confidence, he's not too sure he'll be walking out of this alive, but damn hell will he try.

Then he heard a familiar, loud exploding noise from behind him, like a far away cannon.

His first instinct was to dodge out of the general area he was in, he _refuses_ to die by some cannonball. He waited for a while for that distinct sound of the metal ball coming down, only to hear nothing but more of those sounds and, as he finally noticed, those beasts going down one by one after each bang. Finally he looked at the source of all those, uh, rapid cannon(?) sounds, and found a small band of people.

They held weapons both new and familiar to the swordsman. There were the classic swords, spears, axes and bows, but they also held some long cylindrical weapons, and upon observation, it seems these weapons were the rapid cannons he heard, and the cylinders their barrrels. "Guns" they were called if he remembers

The swarm was being toppled over rather quickly without the humans (at least he hopes they are) getting into melee, they had no need to reload , the bullets shot faster than the normal human eye could see (thankfully Guts isn't so normal, at all) and they kill quickly, too quickly for his tastes, again not that he's really complaining. By the time the swarm, now reduced to a pack of easy pickings, the projectile weapons, transformed? Now that's most definitely new to him.

Before he can be left to his own thoughts, the group was already done with the horde and they were already approaching him while surveying the area. The one man ahead of the others seemed to be their leader. When they reached the area of the small carnage field Guts made, they did a double take.

"What a mezz..." said the rather hulking, muscular leader with a leather "coat" and a crop top and weirdly decorated green pants. His weapon a big, double barreled gun with two blades underneath as long as the length of both barrels. It appears he also has quite an accent.

Then came his other buddy, following close behind, and looking a bit less buff but shirtless save for some straps and bandoliers across his torso, this time with longer, slightly curled hair, the same pants but in brown, hefting a big, multi-barreled, thing, with a big mechanical thing for a main body along with a more mechanical looking bow and arrow combo holstered on his back.

"Yeh, I dun recall uz bein' able to cuz zis much d'mage." it appears he has an even worse accent, too.

"Hey, there's someone there." was heard from behind them, from a less buff, but still well built friend of their's also with a crew cut. Unlike the rest of his buddies, he's actually got a shirt on, except it's sleeveless, showing off the definition on his arms and some plain blue, weirdly textured pants. His weapon, or weapons this time, were two smaller guns with small knives from under the barrel.

The last one just came in, he was just as tall and buff as their leader, but he's also not shirtless, wearing some sort of vest with pockets and padding all over, baggy black pants and gaurds for the joints on his limbs. He held a large gun with a mechanism shaped like a drum.

"You bett'r watch out guyz, he's got a shiv on 'im."

'Okay, seriously, even this guy? What is with these guys and accents? Don't tell me this is the new dialect I have to permanently deal with…'

Upon mention of the weapon on his hand, they started to approach Guts with slightly more caution. They also started to take notice of the rest of his appearance.

Head covered by a hood, but thanks to the morning sun shedding some useful light, they could see enough of his face: one eye closed for some reason and some nasty scars here and there. From what they could make out from the portion of his right leg and right arm visible under the coat, he _may_ be naked under that cloak.

But what really caught their eyes was the blood. Doesn't matter who's it was and where it came from, but he is _drenched_ in the stuff.

Then what happened next surprised all parties. All the blood on Guts's person started to quickly evaporate, Guts was absolutely caught off-guard. Then they all noticed his makeshift weapon almost instantly going from solid to crumbling ash in his hand. That's when the Huntsmen finally noticed the mutilated Grimm also decaying at the same rate.

And then it finally hit the Huntsmen team. All the carnage they just saw was not their doing, even if they wanted to do this much to these damn beasts. It was by the one man in front of them who they assume is _naked_ , with no other weapon but as spike off an Ursa's back from whichever of the poor bastards died first, and if the lack of major bloodstains after they dissolved and the near mint condition, save for the ends of his cloak is any indication, did it _without taking even a scratch_.

This guy's impressive, and oh do they like impressive in their home village.

The leather coated leader let his weapon transform into its simpler broadsword form, then setting it back on his back holster, he stretched out his hand in a greeting gesture.

"Come wid me, we both want to live now, do we?"

* * *

FORCES

Chapter 1:  
The New World

End

* * *

 ** **So yeah, great news! AN ACTUAL FRIGGIN' UPDATE AT LAST!****

 **So I had to tweak the last parts of this chapter so as to properly fit the appearance of my OC team I originally reserved for when Guts finally arrives at Beacon. But then after reviewing their bios, they actually ended up better as graduates who decide to instead bodyguard their little out-of-kingdom village as their job along with its surrounding resource area, making the perfect to actually go on and meet Guts this early instead.**

 **But to anyone who still wants to submit any OC team at all, you are all very perfectly welcome to still do so. I mean, we've got this village and a good 50 percent of the Beacon student body to fill up, friggin' submit at your heart's content! You got a friend who has a team in mind? Tell him about this too!**

 ** _ **Anyone's**_** ** **welcome to submit, and I mean**** ** _ **ANYONE**_** ** **!****

 **And again, just PM it to me, And with me being a sucker for cool OC's, everyone has an 80% chance of having their team featured** ** _ **prominently**_** ** **here.****

Any and all accepted teams

 ** _ **will NOT**_** ** **be forgotten in the long run**** ** **.****

 ** **As always**** ** **, please R &R, constructive criticisms, positive or negative, are always welcome.****

 ** **Thanks****

 **~CE~**

 **P.S.: Can my helpful and willing readers guess who the four introduced Huntsmen are almost blatantly based off of?**


	4. HIATUS ANNOUNCEMENT

**To everyone I kept waiting for an update, I am very, truly, utterly saddened to say that this story will be on Indefinite Hiatus and will be revised at an unknown later date.**

 **For now I would instead like to announce the birth of a new and smaller scale (at least in my head so far it's smaller scale) fanfic, clue...**

 **Remnant meets Earth's Strongest Creature.**

 **If you can guess the series, you deserve a medal for your badassery.**


End file.
